


The Stars are with us

by WaltzQueen



Category: Pyre (Video Game)
Genre: Ableist Language, Gen, Gen Work, Nonbinary Character, Post-Canon, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 06:44:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11663745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaltzQueen/pseuds/WaltzQueen
Summary: A new book is written under Soliam's Star





	The Stars are with us

For nearly a millennia the Commonwealth has stood. It survived a war so brutal and prolonged that it had become a simple fact of life. It sprung from the ashes of the government that stood before it. Perhaps it is thus, only right, that it shall burn the way that it does

.  
The Reader stands,with the last vestiges of the light of the Star of Soliam dripping off their shocked face. The cloak they wear, brandished with the mark of a Reader, an outlaw tempted into forbidden knowledge, now caresses their face like a protective friend as they walk, dripping,  down the gorgeous  streets of the commonwealth once more. Well,.."walked" was a generous word. It was more of a hobble, really.They hadn't walked well since they were very young and the trip down the river and into the Downside only exacerbated the issue. They hobbled. But right now "gorgeous" was a tad generous as well.

  
The upper echelons of the commonwealth hadn't been excited, exactly, with the overthrowing of the government. Their positions of power  were in danger to say the least and there were some like Mansley's family ,the Tinderstaufs, that knew how to give up their hoarded power and wealth with some veneer of dignity, no matter how small.Then there were some that fought tooth and nail, and fire besides.Cutting off their nose to spite the face of their enemies was the way some in power decided to go.The ensuing flames sent up a plethora of beautiful mansions, leading to the more elaborate and decorous houses going up in smoke,their former home among them.

  
The damning brand on their back, a symbol of shame and disgrace, sheltered them from the cinders as they made their way down the cobbled, darkened streets, phantasmic crystal in arms.  
What little fighting there was to be had was brief. It had been mostly those too stubborn and set in their ways, too cruel to let their harsh grip on their fellow citizens slacken even the slightest bit. The rest of the populace embraced the exiles as they revealed themselves to the Commonwealth.

  
The people of the former Commonwealth wonder at Hedwyn and proclaim him Gol Golathanian come again. The Reader watches him as  he and a blue haired Harp force open the door to the marble halls of Archjustice Androbeles IX, the man behind the voice. For a moment the Reader can see what the masses must. The Harp beside him, doubtlessly Shiakni Feng, soars in gracefully and the Reader sheds a tear for Pamitha who remained behind and would never fly again.

  
In time they build a statue of the Nightwings, and through Messenger Imp the Reader hears that it has Volfred's heart a flame with joy. The rare letter from Bertude mentions that he shed tears he may have been too proud to write about. She doesn't say as much, but the Reader can tell that she was likewise moved, Perhaps something in the choosing of the words?

  
The Reader retired to the countryside, to live as quietly and peacefully as any crippled scholar could. Watching the  river that flowed down into the Sandwastes  west of the Ridge of Gol, the feared and dreaded trip for many an exile, be all but boarded up and tossed away felt like watching the black maw of death close up before you and shrink away, back into its cave. They could still feel the  awful waters closing in on them, pressing them down and crushing them from all angles, like a bubble in someone's mouth being squeezed until it popped. They were glad to be rid of it.

  
 Rukey Greentail and Sir Gilman went about their days, exploring and seling merchandise and sparring for fun. Xae visited often, trailing behind her were various hangers-on, seeking wisdom or perhaps second-hand glory, it was unknown. Never the less, she regales the reader with wisdom of the scribes and wondering about the fate of Ti'Zo and Little Brother. Sometimes Jodariel comes with her, taking a brief reprieve from the matter of managing the public safety of the newly formed Saharian Union. They all talk, at such times, n great tumultuous circles, that must confuse the Eighth Word acolytes that surround Xae, but set the Nightwings into laughter, simple and free.

  
It was shaping up to be an average day; the sun streaming in through the grand library window painting the books in the colors of the many triumvirates, a dinner of fish and bread. An hour staring up at the sunset from the safety of their rolling chair, feeling the grass on their feet and listening to the far off sounds of parents calling their children in. An hour of sitting outside as they looked up at the dark and starless sky, thinking about how they beheld the last light of the Star of Soliam and how the Titan Stars ate up the sky. An hour in the pitch blackness sitting with Sandra the Unseeing, who, for obvious reasons, did not comment on the constellations glowing within the Reader's eyes and across their face before a night of rest.  It had all been so easy and ordinary that what happened next was a shock to the Reader as much as anyone else.

  
For, you see, the Reader began writing.

Hundred of tales, volumes thicker than the Reader's legs, each more embellished than the last had been printed already. What more could a single person say about the Nightwings that had not already been said by others a hundred times over? The Reader could not fathom it.  They sat for a long while, staring at the blank page, a vast landscape of so much potential, with nary a thought in their head, but with the light of the Stars shining across the walls of their home.

  
Xae had once informed them, that the best way of listening to the Scribes was to stop trying to Make Things out of Nothing or to make Nothing out of Something. "It is easier, I think," she said, throwing her body back on the lush grass and moving her limbs in it. "It is good to, um, be free! To know what you know, is hard, at first, but then you know, that is, how to be free." And so, the Reader stopped trying to make  something worthwhile out of their time with the Nightwings and stopped trying to make the horrors into nothing.

  
The purple little star or Ha'ub shone on their pinky ,as the reader set their quill to parchment and wrote under the light of Soliam shining from their brow.

**Author's Note:**

> A more literal interpretation of the line you can choose during your grand speech at the end of the game.


End file.
